Too Little Too Late
by Ayolen
Summary: A series of possible, unrelated one-shots in which Harry discovers that his son that he sending to the past, is no other than Severus Snape. Unfortunately, it's too late. [Severus Potter 2]
1. Too Little Too Late

_I don't own Harry Potter._

_This story is a direct sequel to "Forward To The Past"._

* * *

It's been nine years now.

Nine years his scar no longer hurt. Nine years since the final battle against Voldemort. Nine years since life has returned to normal without the threat of darkness.

Celebration Day, Victory Day...

Nine years since the deaths of all the war victims.

Nine years in which the boy who lived, who became to a man who still alive, made it a point to visit the lonely graves of those who fell in the war.

He owed it to them.

When he was a kid, he saw everything black or white, good or bad. Looking back, he was so innocent. Nothing in life was that simple.

Why does victory taste so bitter?

The world saw him as a hero, but he knew he didn't do more for the world than others. He landed the final blow, but so many before him prepared the ground for it...

Seven years he came here loyally, sometimes alone, sometimes with his friends or Ginny. Last year he took his newborn son here. It was not a place for children, but he wanted to instill in his son from the very beginning, liqueur the history and sacrifices of people, even those he did not know.

That's why he named him the two people who sacrificed their all lives just to protect others.

And now he came alone again.

He looked gloomily around him. No. There was no black or white. Happiness was touched by sorrow, the hope with pain.

Hiding his son was the only way he could protect him, he knew, no matter how painful it was to separate him.

He rose to his knees near his godfather's empty grave and walked slowly to Dumbledore's.

He had no words to offer, and still, he had too many things to say.

There were times when he resented, some blamed, some begged for understanding and times he could just thank.

Now he felt tired. Not a word came to his tongue to say to the dead around him.

Here, surrounded by tombstones that emphasize the past, life seemed like something far away. His own continuity has been planted somewhere in the past...

He shook his head and passed measured steps across a long line of tombs, stopping only at the last tomb, a short distance from the others.

The place was deserted and dark, the silence through it was heavy and seemed even suffocating.

No chirping, no live sound, just flat moonlight.

That's why he was so surprised to feel a quiet presence behind him.

As a matter of fact, as a auror, he would have been ashamed to admit the amount of time he needed, before realizing that fact.

The old woman stood in the shadows, the long coat on which she had blended into the monotonous background, and the pallor of her shaded face gave her a sickly and haunted look.

Harry didn't know how long she had been there. She didn't talk, didn't move. Her dark eyes are fixed on the gloomy grave behind the young man.

After a long time, the woman's onyx eyes turned toward him, her thin lips curving into a kind of crooked smile. "That's not what you expected when you left him, is that?"

Her words came out in short gasps, her voice squeaking slightly, as if it had been too long since it was used.

It was evident that the woman had seen better days, age and means did their own, and it was hard for Harry to shrug off the idea that this was exactly the kind of creepy witch described in the Muggle children's literature.

He turned his head slightly at her, "Sorry?"

The witch exhaled slightly. "Did you expect everything to end like that, when you left him?" She asked again, making sure to say each word slowly, as if she was talking to a particularly difficult person.

What was the woman talking about? Did she mean about leaving the professor in the Shrieking Shack to be wallow in his own blood? Was she obnoxious to her that he did not reach out to help as the man breathed his last souls, taking only the silver memories from his hands?

Did she mean he could have been saved?

As she read his thoughts, the woman added, "In the first time."

Harry blinked slightly, "What?" He asked, knowing that it only increases the woman's impression of him.

His eyes surveyed her behind the glass. Her appearance was familiar, he saw her as he watched the memoirs that enabled victory in the war. Now she seemed even more neglected and subservient, it seemed that the years away from her husband, too, did not go well with her.

"Are you Eileen Snape?"

The woman's lips curved, although the expression on her face was far from smiling, contempt was a more appropriate title.

"So you know, eh?"

Harry was surprised at the words' aggression. Was she mad at him?

"I'm sorry, I really didn't know what I could do, I didn't even know he was on our side then..."

Eileen raised her eyebrows unimpressed. "In the first time." She repeated. She looked at him and let out a chuckle, "Though, this was probably the last time for you."

Harry felt embarrassed. "I do not understand..."

The old woman shook her head. "Great Harry Potter. Who would have believed it? Did all the news really be a celebrity bluff?"

He didn't like the sound. The words were too similar to those her son had plunged into him, so many years ago.

Harry decided it was time to slip away, the woman seemed insane and he really didn't feel ready for old charges at the moment.

"Mrs. Snape, I'm sorry, but I have to go now..."

Barely he could take two steps, when her words had stopped him.

"I respected your request. I raised him as best I could, called him by the name you gave."

Harry froze, still slowly moving around and turned to look at the woman again. "The name I gave..?"

A small nod, a haunted smile on his lips. "Isn't that the name you gave him? 'His name's Severus...' at the last moment adds the information that was most important to you. Am I wrong?"

Harry's eyes widened steadily, "S... Severus..?" Whispered without a voice.

Mrs. Snape continued as she was just waiting to pour her speech.

"Was that the only way to protect him? Did you expect things to roll out? To lead a child straight to the Dark Lord's ascension, to win from within, was that your goal?"

When his eyes were already the size of plates, the young man wiped his lips dryly, "No..." he whispered.

No.

How can it be?

"No? And if it wasn't for him, the results of the war would have been very different."

A punch was less shocking to the green-eyed man. It couldn't be.

His lips moved voicelessly, and perhaps better, since he had no idea what he could say now.

"Truth will always be better than any beautiful lie, and even so, we are forced to live with the choices we made." Eileen's voice was quiet, but her words sounded too good on the dark night. "That's what he did," her head leaned slightly toward the white marble tombstone, "all his life."

Harry swallowed with a sore throat, a terrible malaise on his body suddenly.

Their eyes intersected, green meets black. Her voice was no more than a whisper, but for him it was enough.

"It's now your turn to live with yours."

The words continued to resonate long after he went to bed that evening.

How can living with a choice that leaves you feeling so dead?

How can he fix something that already end?

So early it has become too late.

It was the best choice...

It was a pure attempt to defend.

But the act left a bitter taste in his mouth.

* * *

_A/N: After writing, I always have a feeling I should have done better. Unfortunately, I have no idea how..._

_I'd love to hear your thoughts._

_Thank you for reading._

_Hope you liked it!_


	2. Flesh and Blood

_I don't own Harry Potter._

* * *

**Summary:**

Harry is desperate.

As a last resort for locating his son, he turns to dark magic. But even that would not help him in dealing with the discovery.

Severus Snape is not a simple person, family or not.

* * *

"Harry," the wild-haired witch said slowly, looking up from the open page of the book he was pushing into her hands, "It's dark magic."

"Don't be funny, Hermione." The man beside her disagreed. "It's just a magic of discovery."

"Yes, in the blood." Hermione emphasized. "It's dark and you know it."

"Dark art is for damage purposes and with results accordingly, it's just magic. If it used correctly, there's no risk." Harry strongly denied. "There's nothing dark about it."

Hermione looked at him for a long moment. "You realize that's not sure it will work the way you expect."

The young man just shrugged slightly. "I know, it's just..." he hesitated, "this is our only chance, Hermione." Finally admitted in a low voice. "We have no other way to find out."

Hermione's expression softened, she knew how difficult it was for her friend to cope with the consequences of the act he had done so hastily. She knew how sorry he was that he was not looking for a better solution, but he had no time and desperate situations required desperate deeds.

Sometimes there is no choice.

She couldn't imagine a situation where she would have to separate herself from her little Rose, she didn't want to think about a situation that would force her to make such a difficult choice. It would stay with her forever. She could only try to understand how difficult it was for the Auror beside her.

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder in silent support.

The minutes lasted as they were both silent. In the end, it was Harry who looked up, questioned out of his sight.

The young woman sighed and nodded slightly.

Harry's eyes seemed damp for a moment, Hermione assisting her gaze as he whispered a quiet "Thank you".

He pulled out of his trouser pocket a tiny test tube filled with thick red liquid. "Ginny's blood." He answered her question before she could ask.

Hermione smiled faintly. He had already spoken to his wife about it before he arrived. Hermione could not refuse now, the two youngs were already broken, they could not lose the faint hope that this magic would at least help them locate their lost son sent somewhere to the past.

Hoping that past was not too far away and he was still alive.

Hermione exhaled. How complicated the situation was.

She returned to focusing on the open page describing the process. The magic in itself was not difficult, but it required the blood of the person they were looking for, and since they had no drop of blood from Albus Severus, they had no choice but to do another magic before. That one was more complicated. The blood of both parents was needed.

She ignored the slight disgust of the thought and poured the contents of the vial into a bowl.

How much could go wrong. She could only hope that the magic of prediction worked on a child who was already born, but the chance that the other magic would accept it and be able to pass the couple on to their child... well, she will do her best.

With a wand, she laid down a haze of magic and began singing a series of ancient runes.

Harry picked up the sharp knife used by Hermione in potions and stabbed his arm slightly, letting his blood flow and blend into his wife's blood.

While the singing did not stop, the mixture of bloods shook slightly and took on a dimmer hue.

Once Hermione was done, Harry put a freeze magic on the mix and moved to the other side of the table, helping the witch maintain her balance.

Hermione looked up at him, with a look that clearly said that only dark magic could draw from her magic core like that, but the man acted as if he hadn't noticed the commotion.

With a dropper, Hermione picked up three drops of blood and dribbled on a white sheet. She picked up her wand and said the words clearly.

Before their eyes, the drops of blood seemed to get life, which it really was, and smeared on top of it, changing their color and drawing a face.

Slowly a dim picture of a portrait was created. The person clearly shared Harry's blood, it was so fascinating to see the familiar features of the face, such as a nice little combination of his and Ginny's. Lily's green eyes and clarity James' nose, though, from look of his curvature, were evidently broken several times. He obviously saw those in his baby son, but seeing the characters evolve so much, showing what this person looks like right now, at this time... there was something magical about it.

But what struck Harry the most was that he was old.

He knew he would be old. Older than them both. He sent him to an unknown past, and the results could have been much worse. He could be a very old man, well beyond the middle age the man seemed in the middle, or even not alive. He should have been grateful that the magic worked, that his son was still alive.

Still, he could not shake off the aggravated feeling that strangling him.

It was so wrong. They were only young parents in their twenties. And their son was somewhere in his fifty years. It shouldn't be like that.

And it was all his fault.

In the corner of his mind, he wondered if his son had ever studied at Hogwarts. If so, could he have known Sirius James and Lily? Maybe he was in the close years...

Has he heard of him? Who is he kidding, if Albus was a part of the wizarding world, he must have heard of him. The boy who lived, who beat Voldemort... He had to live in a blocked cave, to miss it.

But was he suspicious? He looks so similar... Did he connect? What did he think of the Savior of the Wizarding World? Did he think of him at all?

Harry pushed away the headache that began to develop behind his softness and nodded to Hermione, who had been waiting for approval before she began the detect magic.

Harry watched from the side, unable to get more than just to stand. He felt so miserable. So anxious... and yet, the hope pulsed in him, till he felt he was going to be deaf.

Hermione made the process easy. She whispered the magic and with her wand picked up a drop of blood that had split from the portrait. A moment later, she transforms it in a thin red ring.

After a moment's hesitation, Harry took the small object carefully, feeling mixed emotions. But in memory of Ginny's sad look since the event, a new determination filled his heart.

He can't give up now. It was too important to let a childhood fear to win.

With a quiet thanks to Hermione, he turned to show his wife their progress.

They did not lose time. Already that evening, the couple was ready to go. When fears fill their hearts, but hope revives their spirit, turn where the blood ring will lead.

Harry looked up at Ginny. The tiny smile aimed at him gave him the courage he needed, and with a deep breath, he wore the ring.

And so, with their hands holded, the pair of Potters transported from their home, letting the magic of detection integrated into the ring find the destination for them.

The first thing he saw was a building, a fairly simple building in a row of simple buildings, on a regular street and definitely not magical.

The previous concerns erupted at once. Does his son live between Muggles? He had never thought about the possibility that his son was squib, but now he was beginning to wonder if it really was.

To tell the truth, he wasn't sure if the situation was positive or not. On the one hand, he is relieved, he may not have prejudice about the wizarding world. On the other hand, it would be far more difficult to explain to an old man how his parents might be them.

Harry sighed. Why couldn't they have a simple life? But of course, all his life there were some glitches...

And worst of all, he destroyed it himself.

Ginny surveyed the row of houses in the Muggle town, before picked up her wand and touched the ring next to her husband.

A red, thin beam of light came out of the ring and pointed toward the nearest building. The young couple followed it until they stopped in front of a door on the second floor. The beam of light crashed into the door, pointing to something beyond.

With a slight hesitation, Harry raised his fist and clicked on the thick wood. There was a lingering silence and the man clicked again.

The door didn't have a bell. Swapping a troubled look with his wife, Harry clicked in the third, increasing his pounding.

Why didn't the man open? Well, two can play in this game, the former Gryffindor raised his stature and pounded with renewed determination on the door.

A sound of a chair creaking on the floors made it clear that there were people present in the house. The next second the door opened and Harry back a step involuntarily.

Swallowing his horror, Harry looked wide-eyed at the man standing in the doorway, unable to understand what was more shocking.

The one that, exposed the door was his old potions professor, the one that in front of him stood a man who had been dead for almost a decade, or the the fact that the red light beam coming out of the blood ring on his finger, crashed directly into the man's chest.

Snape raised an eyebrow, "Well, Potter, what brings you to my humble abode?" His piercing tone cracked slightly, and Harry glanced automatically at his throat, the man's black collar covering the milky skin, but a red and ugly scar could still be seen.

Harry swallowed. "Snape."

"Cunharty as always." The man commented dryly.

Harry glanced at Ginny, but his wife stared at the professor with shocked eyes, unable to make the speak.

"It is, well," Harry cleared his throat a little, "great to see you alive..." he suggested weakly.

Snape didn't reply and Harry continued. "Does anyone else live here?" It wasn't really a polite question, but his rational mind had long since abandoned it.

Snape's gaze fell on the beam of light and a mocking smile spread across his face.

"My, my, I didn't think I would see the day when Saint Potter turns to use dark magic."

Frustration had rise in the young Savior, "Snape, I'm serious!"

"No, oh, great Savior, there is no people except me."

Harry was surprised to receive a direct answer, but it would have been better than the alternative if Snape had chosen to laugh at Sirius's name.

But he had a bigger problem. If Snape lived there alone, it's mean... Oh, Merlin's sake, Snape wasn't even Snape.

He wasn't even like... but a look can be disguised.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. "Sn- Severus, it might sound crazy to you... abnormal... I myself couldn't believe it... but... well, I... you..."

The former head of the Slytherin House does not seem to be impressed, "So much for the chosen speaker's ability."

"I'm trying, okay? I don't know how to say..."

"What?" Harry flinched at the venom he dribbled into the words, "That you find a lost family relationship?"

Harry met his gaze and was surprised to see the spark of cold mockery in his eyes. The man enjoyed it.

"You know?" The question came out no more than a whisper, but he couldn't do it anymore.

"Know what? Your expressiveness really needs improvement, though, I guess one thing at a time."

Harry swallowed with a sore throat, "Snape."

The mockery of the pale face only deepened. "Potter." He spat out the word, "How do you like the discovery?" It wasn't a question. "Is it nice to know that you were indirectly responsible for the death of your parents?"

Harry's eyes widened. "No..." wrong. He felt like a little boy beside this man, and that was so wrong.

"Yes indeed. But you can rejoice in the side effects, in fact, how many times have you been wish to take revenge on the greasy dungeon bat?" Snape walked away from the door and grabbed the door handle. "So arrogant, humiliating, just like your father. Proud, Potter?"

"You are Potter too." Harry commented weakly.

Snape paused only briefly. "So it's a good thing I've far ago stopped to give much importance to family relationships."

With those words, the door slammed.

* * *

_A/N: __I'd love to hear your opinion, it's very important to me._

_I hope you enjoyed!_


	3. In The End

_I don't own Harry Potter._

**Summary**:

Harry said goodbye to his son on the train.  
Epilogue compatible.

The quotes from the epilogue belong to Rolling. My mistakes.

* * *

The platform crowded with crowds, loud noises were heard from all sides, but Harry ignored them, his attention only on his fearful and frightened son.

"And if they put me in Slytherin?"

The whisper was quiet, but the man heard the concern with his son's desperate question.

Harry knelt until Albus's face was slightly higher than his own. Of Harry's three children, only Albus inherited Lily's eyes.

"Albus Severus," Harry said quietly, "you are named after two of the Hogwarts executives. One of them was from the Slytherin house," he paused briefly, "and he must have been the bravest man I ever knew."

Albus's green eyes seemed to be in doubt. "But promise-"

"In this case, the Slytherin House will make an excellent student, right? It doesn't matter to us, Al. But if you do, you can choose Gryffindor over Slytherin. The sorting hat will take your preferences into account."

"Really?"

"That's how it was with me." Said Harry.

He smiled at the look of astonishment he had received, he had never told his children about it before. He led Albus to the trailer, "Anyway, we will be proud of you in every situation."

Ginny nodded in agreement, closing the door behind him. And Harry quietly added, mostly to himself, "I'm already proud of you."

A nostalgic smile came over his face as he remembered how it all turned out.

How amazing that things have a tendency to get by in the end.

So many things that happened by accident and looked so complicated, but were actually the most perfect pieces of the puzzle.

Years went by, but he remembered the grief he held then so clearly.

He didn't know how to live after sending his son to the past, and although James Sirius was born and after three years Lily Luna came, but he still felt so low, so guilty...

Then, as a gift from heaven, Hermione discovered the magic of spotting, and when they use that, they really managed to find his lost son.

The problem turns that he was an older, bitter man who didn't want to see them anymore.

At that time, Harry was almost discouraged, everything looked so gray, so bleak. He felt that whatever he was doing was being destroyed, as much as he was trying to protect, he was failing...

His life consisted of difficulties and complications, but his life was a legend, and every legend get along in the end.

Snape- Severus, Albus, he didn't really know how to think about this man now... He was so talented in potions. A real genius. But like everyone else, he made a mistake, and that mistake was the most gratifying thing in Harry's life.

He will never forget the high sense of hope that sprang into him when his former potion professor de aged and became a two-year-old for everything.

He knew it was wrong on his part, it was disgraceful in memory of the heroic man who sacrificed so much... but Harry couldn't help but celebrate the opportunity, the second chance that fell in part.

And if he is honest, Severus also has worth a second chance. To lead a life that is better than the live nightmare that Harry initially sentence him.

And he promised that this time, this time he would do it right.

Harry kept smiling and waving, and even though it was a bitter taste at that moment... watching his son move away from him slowly...

The last remains of steam dissolved in the cool autumn air. The train turned round. Harry's hand was still raised to wave goodbye.

"He'll do well," Ginny muttered.

Harry looked at her with a grim smile, just slightly. His hand was stretched out and unintentionally touched by the lightning scar on his forehead. It's been a while. There is an option to fix. To look to the past, but to live in the present.

"I know."

The scar hadn't hurt him in nineteen years. Everything was good.

* * *

_A/N: This idea has been going around my head for quite some time and I really wanted to write it, but I didn't know how to approach it and figure it all out._

_Eventually I caught myself and decided to write anyway._  
_I have to admit I'm not happy with the result, I really wish it would have turned out differently, but I just don't know how..._

_I would love to hear your opinions and reviews!_

_Thanks so much for reading!_


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